Candles
by Macky19
Summary: A deeper look at Johnny's relationship with his mother, and what it's like when he's not ignoring him. Rated T for abuse.


**Wow this one is** deeeeeeep

 **Warning: emotional abuse and mentions of physical abuse**

 **Please enjoy**

Johnny walked up the cracked sidewalk that led to the porch. His home seemed oddly quiet, usually, as this hour his parents were already screaming at each other, but right then it was so silent that he wondered if they were even home. It didn't look like it either, all the lights were off, he wondered if maybe his parents had locked him out.

The creak of the old door interrupted the silence, and as the short greaser stepped into the front entrance he realized that he was not alone for the night, or not as alone as he had thought.

His mother sat at the wooden kitchen, a couple of small candles lit. She bit her lip nervously as if she were afraid of him. He almost scoffed at the thought, she knew very well that Johnny would never hurt her.

"Hey." He said softly, offering her a nervous smile. "What's up?" She didn't answer, and he sighed, it looked like he was pretty much alone that night after all. His eyes locked on the candles, he was almost mesmerized by the dancing flame. His mother caught him staring.

"Our power got turned off." She explained. He jumped a little bit as the sound of her voice, he honestly hadn't expected her to talk at all. "Your son of a bitch father 'forgot' to pay the bills." She said, making little quotes at the word forgot with her fingers. She didn't sound angry though, just annoyed and maybe a little sad.

"Where's dad?" He asked, then slapped his hands over his mouth, she obviously didn't want to talk about it. He expected her to lash out at him, or even throw him out of the house like she had done many times before, but she didn't. She just shook her head sadly, rubbing her forehead softly.

In the dim light of the single candle on the table, he was able to see that her face was bruised, he felt a small twinge of guilt. Perhaps if he had been there he could have stopped it, or at least comforted her. He wracked his brain for something to cheer her up a bit.

"Well, they look pretty." He said gently, and his mother sent him a confused look. "The candles, I mean." She nodded understandingly.

"This was all that I could find, but at least they give us enough light to see." She commented. She seemed sort of ashamed like it was her fault that they didn't have enough, he didn't fully understand why.

"It's more than enough," Johnny said dismissively, intending on ending the conversation and going to his room. But his mind wouldn't let him leave the room. He pulled up a chair next to her, and for a moment she looked angry like he was not his son but an old enemy.

"Are you alright?" He asked, the words startling the both of them. They had been beaten by his father countless times before, and not once had this question left their mouths. His voice was not soft and gentle like you would expect. It was cold, with a smidge of anger, though he was not angry at her, and not at his father either, but at what he had done to her, to them.

"Huh?" She asked quietly, the fearful look returning to her face upon hearing his tone. Johnny thought about letting it go, and leaving like he had first intended to, but then shook the thought from his mind.

"Are you alright?" He asked again, his tone just as bitter as before.

Her black eyes widened, and for a moment he wondered if that was what he looked like. He had his mother's hair and his eyes, something that he was extremely thankful for, he didn't think that he would be able to stand to look like his father. But as he watched her sit there, hunched over with tears in her eyes, he knew he wouldn't be able to look that nervous and fretful and still call himself a greaser.

She never answered his question, but she didn't need to, the two of them knew that they were both far from being alright. Nobody could suffer that much and still be okay.

"You could just leave," Johnny commented softly, looking out the window at the pitch black night. His mother nodded, resting her chin lightly on the table. Then another question came to Johnny's mind.

"Why don't you leave?" He asked, turning to look at her. She didn't let her eyes meet his, he supposed maybe that eye contact would make it too real like she had been in denial that his father didn't love her since the moment she met him and that looking into his eyes would make it true.

She didn't answer this question either, she simply left the two questions he had asked unanswered but asked one of her own.

"Are you alright?" She asked, and the candle that was in the center of the table flickered and went out. She reached for it, but Johnny stopped her and lit it with his lighter. This time the flame wasn't as big, probably because most of the wick had already been burnt. The tiny flame gave the kitchen an eery glow.

"I'm not answering your question until you answer mine." He said stubbornly, and she gave him a strange look.

"What?" He asked uncertainly, wondering if he had pushed her too far, but her expression never changed.

"I think that this is the the most you and I have talked in weeks." She said, and he was about to point out that they didn't talk at all, but he stopped himself from making the bitter remark.

"I guess I'm just talkative today." He said quietly, before realizing his mother was stalling.

"Why do you stay?" He asked again, and the question hung in the heavy silence for a moment.

"Well, I guess we could leave." She began, drumming her fingernails on the wooden table thoughtfully, the sound sending shivers down the greaser's spine. "We would have to find a new house with enough room for both of us, and a new job for me, and a new school for you." She said thoughtfully like an evil genius planning an evil scheme.

"I didn't ask that." He said in a cold voice. She looked at him with a surprised expression on her face.

"But you said-"

"I know what I said." He interrupted, raising a hand to stop her from speaking. "I said why don't you leave, I never said why don't we leave." She blinked hard, and he wondered if it was to stop herself from crying. He said seen her scream and yell and shake and breakdown, but he had never once seen her cry.

"I'm not leaving you, Johnny." But it wasn't kind or reassuring, her tone now matched his. He wanted to tell her that she couldn't promise that, nobody could promise that, really. He couldn't promise her that either, he had left before when it had gotten too much, he went to the Curtis' or went to Buck's to stay with Dally. He had done it many times before, so why didn't she?

Maybe he would really never know why she stuck around, and maybe she would never know either.

"You don't believe me, do you?" She asked, and it almost sounded like an accusation, like she was the most trustworthy and he was insane for not believing her. He felt angry at her like she was completely innocent.

She expected her to finally blow her top, but she remained silent

He leaned forward, he was in her face now. Her eyes narrowed, in a suspicious sort of way.

She mockingly ruffled his hair, it reminded him a bit of how Mrs. Curtis used to do it, but it was rougher and not as friendly.

"You really grease it up, don't you?" She said, and it was almost like an accusation. Like a reminder that he was a greaser and not good enough and he was a disappointment. Well, he was fine with that, because she was a disappointment to him too. She was supposed to love him and protect him, but she didn't. She was a mother, but he would never truly have a mom.

"Why do you ignore me?" He asked, his voice a strangled whisper. He had never had the guts to ask, but there was a first time for everything.

"What?" She asked, leaning forward, their faces only inches apart. He knew she had heard him loud and clear, but she was pushing him, seeing if he dared to say it again.

"Why do you ignore me?" Johnny found that he had to ask her every question twice, and he had really never answered any of them.

Then she absolutely lost it.

"Get out!" She screamed, and the dim candle in the center of the table went out again, leaving the ones on the counter to give him a small amount of light to find his way out of the house before she got violent.

"Get the fuck out!" She screamed again, and Johnny sprinted out of the house, not wanting to upset her more, especially if his father decided to make an appearance. He had discovered that lately, his father had been trying to find excuses to hurt him more, it made him wonder if it really was his fault, but he sure wouldn't be sticking around to find out.

He collapsed in the middle of the street, his mother slamming the door behind him. The bang made his stomach lurch, and a dull burning set in his chest.

He sighed, pulling himself to his feet, deciding that he better head to the Curtis' before it got too late.

He always stopped in the lot, no matter where he went, it was a habit of his.

Someone had been there not long before him, there were footprints and what used to be fire, but was now just some dying embers. He sighed, thinking that if he could get another fire going he could stay the night in the lot, and could get out of disturbing the Curtis' when he heard a noise.

He stiffened, listening carefully, footsteps. Whoever was there before he was coming back. He pulled out his knife, ready to defend himself, knowing that they were too close for him to start running.

A figure emerged from the shadows, and the short greaser swore he felt his heart skip a beat. His mind whirled, and the dying embers offered just enough light so he could spot some facial features, blond hair, blue eyes, pale skin. He breathed out upon realizing who it was.

"Hey, Dal." He said, putting his switchblade back in its rightful pocket.

"Hey, kid." He greeted, and Johnny's eye twitched at the pet name, and he had the urge to remind Dally that they were only a year apart. But he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to argue with the older greaser.

Dallas stood next to him, glancing at his friend once, and immediately knew something was wrong. Johnny didn't know why he even bothered not telling him anymore, Dally could always tell that something bad had happened, he just knew him that well.

"Your old man?" He asked almost casually. That was pretty sad, that his father beat him so often that it had become part of their everyday life.

Johnny didn't answer, his black eyes were locked on the dying fire, and for the first time in a long time, he thought of nothing. He found that he thought too much, that his mind was always racing.

"Your mother?" Dallas asked, this time a little bit more demanding.

"Yeah." He answered quietly.

"Yeah, what?" Dally asked raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, it was my mom." He elaborated, and Dally slouched a bit, at least when it was his dad who hurt him there were wounds he could help heal when his mom bitched at him you couldn't even see the injury. It was easy to treat a black eye or a split lip, a cold wash cloth and some rubbing alcohol and he was good to go. But with words, there was nothing he could do, both of them knew that.

Dallas reached over, and gently ruffled his hair, and Johnny was dying to tell him that his mother had done the same thing to him earlier that night, but he just kept his mouth shut.

"The gang needs you, Johnnycake." The blond greaser commented because there was nothing else that could have been said. There were a few minutes of silence, and the embers finally went out, surrounding the two young men with pitch black.

"You wanna go to the Curtis' with me?" Johnny finally asked, and through the dark, he could barely make out Dally nodding his head.

They walked in the right direction, and Dally wrapped an arm around him. They walked side by side at the two misfits walked to the closest thing they had to a home.

Please review- Macky


End file.
